


Nothing At All

by RoseShower



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Abuse, Anger, Angst, Anxiety, Care, Comfort, Depression, Doubt, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Past Child Abuse, Romance, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25226830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseShower/pseuds/RoseShower
Summary: Rainy days, black umbrellas, gloomy clouds, and disheartening sentiments. Adrien seemed to have nothing left, nothing to consider for, nothing to care for him. As he thought so, "Nothing at All". - [Suicidal!AU]
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Luka Couffaine/Kagami Tsurugi
Kudos: 19





	Nothing At All

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! I hope you all enjoy this short story. Chapters will be long and hopefully not with filler, and they will all explain in depth why Adrien is this way. Characters are a bit older, 16-17 ish. Oh yeah, there's no Kwamis, so, therefore, Adrien was never free. Now, I have to warn you, this story is... sad.
> 
> Edit: I've decided that I'm going to revise every little thing that's been bothering me from this story, such as how SHORT AND UNCONVENTIONAL It IS.
> 
> I do not own Miraculous Ladybug.

**[. . .]**

* * *

_"Which life? I've got nine." - Chat Noir, Season 1, TimeBreaker._

* * *

**[. . .]**

* * *

Beloved of all, yet his existence means nothing.

Lonely and wandering, a tired soul stares in contemplation at the waters waiting for him from below, feeling meaningless since his birth to this tainted world.

Numb tears rushed down his cheeks as his emerald green eyes darkened when a roll of thunder apprehended above, flashing against the black hood he wore to hide his true identity. The tasteless bitterness of the pills he swallowed rumbled uncomfortably in his stomach, shooting sharp pains that coaxed him to tip only but mere centimeters forward.

The rain was cold against him. He didn't care. He was cold already, long before he knew the chance of rain.

What a life. Raised as a humble model full of riches none could wager, his brain had flawlessly woven his entire life in only minutes.

Many would think such growth was the perfect life anyone would want; never hungry, never dirty, never cold. Entertained and relaxed was what the epitome of his life was thought of, and he wondered how stupid people were to believe such things were true.

He'd seen the way people looked at him.

Gold and Emerald, they'd say. A god. Perfection.

And he would smile.

He would smile every day, wave at the people, and pose for the camera, ignoring the lurches of bile that rose at every single waking moment he spent being enslaved into a fake world.

In moments of desperation, when he would find no way out of what he didn't want to do, he spent hours smiling and suppressing the urge to grab anything nearby and stake it right through his face. He would look at the pens writing down on paper and imagine himself impaling his eye. He would look at the people in front of him and believe them to finally jump onto him and kill him.

He'd see so many things; places, even. At every turn, he thought of nothing but death.

_Because he couldn't take it anymore_.

Screams echoed in his mind and his hands itch to shred every part of his flesh and meat, desperately wanting to pluck his golden hair and blind his pretty eyes.

He can't do it anymore.

He was nothing but a pretty face. Nothing but a boy growing into adulthood just so that females and males could touch and pervert him with their eyes, nothing but a model who was perfect and beautiful and nothing else.

And he truly believed that. Nobody else has ever told him otherwise.

He had no friends. No family, only for his one and only father that didn't want anything to do with him.

He tried making friends. His servants, as his father would call them, were an attempt. They treated him too sweet for his liking. They only talked to him because it was mandatory, not because they wanted to. They were just as fake as anyone else. Besides, what would they know about his lonesomeness? They truly didn't care about the matter, anyway.

Which... provoked him to _escape_ —to make friends outside his home. Three years too short ago, he fled and made it to a public school.

As his luck would have it, he didn't get far.

Right when his hope was in his reach, right when he thought he had managed to finally feel something other than vacant disdain, his father had caught him. No, of course, he wasn't present. He was behind a screen, scolding him in a colorful language he was all too used to when his bodyguard had gently led him back inside the car.

Nathalie, his father's assistant, had said nothing as always, and he had to swallow his hatred from being caught when she had told him he'd be grounded.

_Grounded_.

Where would he go? He was consistently grounded. Even if he wasn't struck down with such a punishment.

Chloe wasn't even allowed to see him anymore. Chloe, his supposed childhood best friend, couldn't even step foot near his stupid home.

_Grounded_ , they repeated, _Remember, Adrien, you're grounded. You can't see your friends._

_What_ friends? Did they mean Chloe? She was barely tolerable. She often whined and complained, and when he wouldn't bother listening, she would yell at him for being a bad person.

Was he, bad?

Was that why he had nobody?

_Nothing_?

Thunderbolts echoed in the raging clouds during the present time. Immediately, the visions of his past dispersed to where he stood now above the waters that would surely crush him if he fell just correctly enough, and the numbness had settled again.

His body felt weak and he could feel his mind fog, trying to focus. Focus on what, exactly? He... couldn't remember.

The throb in his chest ached and he almost reached to clutch at the fabric of his black hood, bringing tears to swallow his sight whole. It hurt, tingled his limbs, and made his throat feel raw, making it seem as if he were finally going to cry.

But he didn't. He didn't cry, and his tears were just from the pain at the realization that he was nothing.

His guards would've surely been here by now. Perhaps they were tired of him leaving them. Perhaps his father was finally going to allow him the freedom to... _leave_. To _let go_.

The people he knew of flashed in his mind. His servants. His clingy fans that he hated whenever they would attempt to touch him. His father. His friend, Chloe.

The waters jumped in his eyes. They moved in gentle currents from side to side, and the rain littered in small spectacles that reverberated whenever it hit the surface tension of the water, creating small little circles that seemed to beg him to come in. And the heaviness of his heart became heavier.

Where were they now? Now that his tears began to make him feel? Now, when the skies cried for him just as he had done since the loss of his mother?

Where were they now where he stood, contemplating for the waters to take him and kill him alive?

His eyes looked beyond the water. Briefly, he saw the moving reflection of what he thought of as his mother.

Green eyes met his orbs, and her same gentle smile coaxed him.

He could finally see his mother after so long.

He could finally be loved.

Now that he's here, with nothing wanted.

_Nothing at all._

* * *

**[. . .]**

* * *

A girl with eyes the color of dizzying bluebell and face as perfect as porcelain walked merrily through the rain.

Her raven-colored hair and her pink and plumped clothes that protected her body was safe under the cover of her equally pink umbrella, allowing for the cold to bounce away and instead warm her far beyond eternal goodness.

The sunlight, although covered by the darkening clouds and sounds of thunder, could be felt under her clothes that basked her with recognition as she passed by the many locations she had moved through this very same morning where she was nothing but otherwise late to her first interview in a fashion company she dreamed of joining.

_Gabriel's Exquisite Vêtements: Le Agreste_ , it was called. And now she was part of it. And upon remembering that she had made it, joyous feelings sparkled like electricity through her body, making her small smile brighten evermore. It seemed to be the only source of light in the vacant streets that looked almost grey and sad.

The giddy girl's name was Marinette.

She had introduced herself nervously to a woman with a dark suit and red streak in her hair, claiming she knew a lot about fashion and anything else that related to clothes. She could remember her stutter going away and bringing forth her confidence when she reached into her small bag to pluck out a hand-made resume that had everything she needed to pass.

The woman, emotionless and dull, had taken her paper, and Marinette could see the surprise that flickered on her face when she read it.

The interview took about twenty minutes. And after the woman had imputed her details on her computer with pasted presses onto her keyboard, she had turned to the pretty girl and smiled.

Marinette felt her insides churn in happy bubbles when the woman had told her she was looking forward to working with her. And Marinette didn't care that she didn't mention anything about clothes making or anything.

She was happy enough that she at least got the job as a helper for her.

And for Marinette, that was more than welcome. Sure, she would probably struggle to at least become one of the designers for clothes, but she thought it would be worth it now that she had been given the chance.

And what a chance it was! She couldn't _wait_ to go home and tell her friends.

With joy, Marinette had let out a small giggle and jumped, allowing some of the rain to touch her body.

Marinette had felt it prickle on her skin and she had _basked_ in it. It didn't matter that she would probably catch a cold; she was far too happy with herself to let anything bring her down.

She loved the rain.

She loved the way it smelled; a mix between wet dirt and old coal, hinting just a small tad to burned chalk.

She loved the sky, thinking that the colors were a beautiful mystery waiting to be uncovered.

She loved the puddles of water that tucked her shoes in liquid, making her feet freeze and mix with the heat of comfortableness.

She loved everything.

Today, perhaps, was the most amazing day of her life.

Maybe she was exaggerating. She didn't dutifully, care, though. Her emotions were enough evidence for it to be true. And how true it was for her to feel such things. It was like a gate of open opportunity that had opened for her to venture through. Momentarily, she had forgotten everything else.

Ah... But she supposed all perfect days must have their downside.

And that was true also.

But Marinette hadn't expected anything upsetting. She was far too joyful to be thinking about such melancholic thoughts.

Oh, how _wrong_ she was.

After she had walked away from a large Mansion she was surprised to even have been able to trespass through, she had passed by many places and found herself just on the other side of where she needed to go.

Her arrival at The Seine had made her breathing cease. Anxious but otherwise shocked dances of doom fueled her stomach, and she felt herself go the coldest she's ever been upon taking witness to something alarming.

Far beyond it, right in the center of the short bridge where she was meant to cross to go home, stood a person covered in a black hood and jeans appropriate near the edge. He was on the other side of the fence, where anyone would fall surely, gripping tightly against the layer meant to keep people from falling.

She could perfectly tell that he was shaking, most likely because of the cold since she could tell even from afar that the fabric of his sweater was almost as thin as silk.

Even though the rain had increased, she could see the wet drippings that resembled tears fall from the person's cloaked face. It seemed that he was looking over toward the water, and Marinette's heartbeat increased when she noticed but a taint of tilt from him. It looked like he... He...

Internally, she fought with herself. She, with shame, thought that perhaps he was just enjoying a nice stroll in the rain. Part of her was slightly convinced that he may not have been in danger and that he was just someone looking a bit too close to the water.

The other part of her knew otherwise. He wouldn't be so close to the edge if he was enjoying himself. He... He wouldn't look so... _lonely_.

She was going to walk past him. She hadn't even realized she was walking across now, and she hadn't even sensed herself coming as close to him as possible. But she was just going to pass. Simple.

But she had stopped immediately when his head had turned slowly in her direction, making their eyes lock with one another in an instantaneous second. She was still a bit far from him, but even if, behind his hood, she could see no color behind such hollow eyes.

It was a mere glance.

And without even thinking, Marinette had screamed out for him when he took one step forward.

His body continued to lean forward almost in slow motion, but his head snapped in her direction again. This time, when she began to run to him, she could perfectly see the bewildered look that made him look almost alive enough to stop himself from making such a rash decision.

His body didn't stop.

And Marinette, determined, didn't care that she dropped her pretty umbrella to dirty it on the wet asphalt, nor did she care that the small purse clattered right along with it when her hands reached for him, exposing her petite body to the rain.

She didn't care that she was having trouble. No, she forced her body to pull him back by his clothes, enough to order him back on firmer ground, away from the danger of the edge.

And she had almost collapsed when the body of the stranger had fallen forward, weakened.

The blond, now that she saw his hair up close when he stood properly, was in hysteria. He stared at her as if she were some abomination, and Marinette, realizing that she had probably hurt him, stepped back, stung.

"I'm so sorry," She whispered to him, and the boy had continued to stare at her broken, "But please..."

The boy's shock had wavered and slackened to his returning sadness.

"Don't jump."

He could hear the pleading of her voice. However, despite that, he turned back towards the bridge.

"Please," He felt something warm touch his forearm that pulled him back or held him in place, he didn't know, "Please... Don't. Don't do this to yourself," She begged, and the sincerity in her eyes had scared him when he took it upon himself to look and see what the problem was.

The rain was hitting her face so merrily, lapping at the curve of her lips and the fluttering of her eyelashes. The twist of her face that looked like true desperation and worry had made his numbness feel only a small fraction.

He made no indication that he seemed to be listening to her. Instead, he had parted from her touch and turned back to what he was supposed to do.

Marinette, out of respect, let go.

"Please, I... Please listen to me. I know you don't know me," Marinette almost cried out again when he began to climb over and she had to stop herself from yanking him back, "But this isn't right."

He stopped, standing above the fence.

"I know that it may feel like it's the only way out," Marinette said, "But it isn't. I know I'm just a stranger to you who's opinion may not matter, but please, believe me, and understand that even in your state of misery, this choice is not the right thing," She came closer, and he could hear the softness that left her lips.

He looked at the water again. He removed his sight on it to regard it back to her.

Marinette could see the great conflict reflected in his pretty eyes. Somehow, she managed to keep him there, still at the edge, but at least there, still alive. And she would take whatever she could, just as long as he didn't leave her for the heavens.

When all she received was his stare, she continued to talk in hopes that she would convince him to live. "It's the hardest decision to live," Marinette saw his eyes flash an emotion she recognized all too well, "Sometimes it seems like it's the most logical thing to do." She paused, thinking hauntingly in her current state, "And though I don't know your life, your choice will hurt many others who care. Including me," Marinette said, and she hoped the rain could hide the way her eyes teared, "I don't know you. But it doesn't matter. I care that you live. I care that you want to die. And I don't want you to," She held out a hand for him.

He said nothing. Nothing at all.

"It's the worst feeling when there's no way out," Marinette continued, watching him turn completely towards her, "But I promise you now that life will continue. There will be good days and bad days, but you won't be alone. There will always be someone there to help you when you need the most. The bad comes," She felt the rain persist but decrease in intensity, "And it goes. Life becomes better when you give it a chance."

He said nothing. But his mind riddled with questions.

"Trust me," She felt her lips wobble because she just couldn't take the fact that such a timid soul would want to do this to himself, "Stranger to stranger. Whatever it is that is going on," Her eyes drooped, "It isn't worth losing something so precious as your life over." A sad smile came on her face.

And the beating silence became the ground. Rain littered in ever direction, wetting her precious form as he loomed above her, thinking in difficulty over such a rash decision.

He pondered. She was right. He didn't know who she was, so how could he trust her? How could he know that she wouldn't... leave him?

He still wanted to jump. It was so easy. He would be free. He was sure he wouldn't last enough for another day. His insanity was quite enough.

" _Please_ ," He heard her say again, sweet and soft and comforting, "Please don't leave this world without giving it a chance."

He had given it chances. Many, so many. And he wanted to tell her that she didn't know anything about his situation. He wanted to yell and scream and thrash around and complain that everything was torture and that everything was only breaking him more, but he didn't. And he didn't because he had listened to what she had to say to him.

It was a decision he was struggling with. It made his head hurt and his body fatigue, but he remained put, unable to be swayed by his state. He was trying hard to understand what she was trying to say. But he just couldn't see any happiness in his life the way it was because he forgot what that even was.

But... when he saw her there, a stranger holding out her hand, coping him out of the decision he was about to make, he realized something.

She was taking time away from _her_ life to stop him from losing _his_. She was ignoring wherever _she_ wanted to be just to stop _him_. And she was there, _nurturing_ him slowly with her voice, to _care_ about his life again.

Maybe he wouldn't jump.

Maybe he might want to live. Only a little.

Maybe he wanted someone to tell him that.

Maybe she was worth it.

He took her hand and felt the warmth seep into his flesh and tickle him with comfort. He stepped down from the edge, blank, and stared at her when he noticed the sudden joy she felt when he did such a thing.

"I know what it's like to feel like you're nothing," She whispered to him then, placing her other hand above his. "Believe me when I say that no one is fortunate to live a completely peaceful life."

His mind still circled. The bridge was there. But she was here.

"But no life is complete without a little bit of tragedy," She said gently.

He couldn't understand why the gentle caress of her eyes began to calm him. He couldn't understand why his desperation had simmered down to be replaced with confusion.

"You may not want to," Marinette looked away from him and he was confused to see a small blush on her face, "But I can help you. A friend..." She looked at him again and a warm smile made his body uneven, "...to a friend."

The boy had doubts. Many, many doubts. Too many to count and too many to keep track of. But they were there. And for now, they were strong.

"A friend..." He murmured as he looked beyond her eyes, searching almost for her soul.

The rain was slowly affording a stop. It landed on them with light taps, now.

"A friend," She had whispered back at him, and though her blush was gone, her genuine affection in her eyes was still there.

She was still holding his hand when she had looked away again and picked up her fallen things. Suddenly, he saw her. He saw her in front of him, full, complete. She was not an illusion as he had thought she was. She wasn't lying to him. No, truly, she wasn't.

The flame of his hopes that diminished so long ago had flickered inside him.

"My name is Adrien," He told her, and watched her, seeing the slight pause she gave when she looked at him again after retrieving her things.

Her smile had made him settle his unease. With another spark of joy, she held up her Pink Umbrella over them so that the rain wouldn't touch them anymore.

"I'm Marinette," She greeted in return and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

He stared at her deeply, right into her beautiful bluebell eyes, and squeezed her hand back.

Although empty, still, something had been placed inside his aching chest.

He still felt nothing after all.

Nothing at all.

But... Maybe it would change.

Now that she was here.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. I realized I started crying when I rewrote this.
> 
> Tough times are tough times. But there will always be someone.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Toodles~
> 
> Ana.


End file.
